


anything for one more hour of light

by the_one_that_fell



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_that_fell/pseuds/the_one_that_fell
Summary: Bittle was laughing just before the bus crashed.





	anything for one more hour of light

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [OMGCP_Heartbreak_Fest_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/OMGCP_Heartbreak_Fest_2017) collection. 



> For the prompt: _Ghost!fic. The Samwell team bus crashes during a roadie and it's a miracle they all survive unscathed. They'd like to stop thinking about it, except The Swallow is printing weird articles about the Haus being 'haunted', people keep leaving flowers at Faber while they're trying to practice, and no one can get any cell phone reception on campus._
> 
> Hope this is close to what you wanted!
> 
> TW: DEATH, mentions of a deadly bus crash (nothing descriptive or graphic)

Bittle was laughing just before the bus crashed.

Ransom and Holster were in the aisle, wrestling, just moments before. Lardo was perched on Shitty's lap, rolling her eye at their antics. Nursey and Dex were arguing, more playful than malicious, Chowder hanging over his seat to chirp them both. And Jack-

Jack watched it all fondly, heart feeling light despite the loss they were leaving behind. These were his friends and, in this moment, he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

Bittle turned to him then, eyes bright in the neon lights of the highway at dusk, and Jack's heart skipped a beat. Bittle was laughing, warm and joyful and lovely, when somebody screamed and everything went dark.

* * *

  
Jack woke up at the Haus with no memory of how he got there.

Though he came to slowly and groggily, the moment he remembered the crash Jack leapt from his bed, stumbling out into the hall. Without a second thought, he burst into Bittle's room, heart pounding wildly.

Bittle was asleep on top of his covers, wearing the same sweatpants and t-shirt he'd had on before-

"Jack?"

Bittle rubbed at his eyes, sitting up slowly. Jack hurried to crouch next to him, eyes raking down Bittle's body, looking for any sign of injury.

"Did we crash?" Bittle asked, voice hoarse.

"I think so," Jack said, brushing Bittle's hair away from his forehead. There was a faint scar there he'd never noticed before,  but no visible injuries. Bittle' cheeks grew pink and Jack pulled his hand away quickly. "I don't really remember what happened after, though."

"Me neither," Bittle said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Is everyone okay?"

"I don't know," Jack admitted. "Let's go check." He held out his hand and Bittle took it, letting Jack hoist him to his feet. Jack was reluctant to let go, but he did, leading Bittle into the hallway and down the stairs.

To Jack's immense relief, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster were all seated at the kitchen table, staring intently at Ransom's phone.

"Oh, heavens to Betsy, I'm glad y'all're alright," Bittle said with a sigh. "I was so worried."

Lardo hopped up to wrap her arms around Bittle's chest, hugging him tightly.

"You two slept so long," Shitty said, standing to do the same to Jack. "We were afraid something might be wrong."

Jack squeezed Shitty tightly. "The frogs-?"

"Haven't heard from 'em," Holster said, gesturing to Ransom's phone. "None of our phones are working."

Bittle pulled away from Lardo, brow knitted together anxiously. "I'm sure they're okay."

"You two don't remember anything after the crash, do you?" Ransom asked, tearing his eyes away from the phone screen.

"No," Jack said. "I was hoping one of you might."

"This isn't standard procedure," Lardo said quietly. "For injured players or potential concussions. They wouldn't just drop us off in our beds."

"Maybe that's what happens when your team manager gets knocked out," Holster said, half joking. "No one's there to enforce procedure."

Shitty chuckled weakly, but Lardo's frown deepened. "Something's off," she said quietly, more to herself than to any of them.

"The weather sure is nasty out there," Bittle said, peering out the kitchen window. "So dark and gray."

"Still not used to real winter, eh, Bittle?" Jack chirped. But when he looked outside, Jack had to agree: the sky was unnaturally dark and gloomy, even for early spring.

"Hello?" Someone called from the entryway. "Anybody here?"

Bittle was out the door and throwing himself at Chowder before Jack could even turn. When the rest of them filed after him, Bittle was hugging Chowder tightly, rambling incoherently.

"Yeah, we're okay, too, Bits," Nursey chirped. "No need to worry about us."

Bittle made an indignant noise and threw his arms around Nursey and Dex, squeezing them with as much might as he could muster.

"Someone left you guys flowers!" Chowder told the rest of them. "I checked the tag but it wasn't addressed to anyone."

"It's probably for Bitty," Ransom teased. "From one of his many admirers."

Jack frowned. He hadn't known Bittle was being courted-

"Oh, shush," Bittle reprimanded. "Stop makin' fun of me, I could be concussed again for all you know."

"Not making fun of you, Bits," Holster said with a grin. "We happen to know several eligible bachelors who think you're a- Ransom, what's the exact phrase?"

"Stud muffin? Sex god? BILF? That's 'Bitty I'd Like to-'"

"I was gonna say cutie-patootie, but I think I like BILF better."

Bittle's face turned a fantastic shade of red and he shook his head. "They're probably from one of Jack's fangirls."

"Nuh-uh," Shitty said. "If it was, the tag would be addressed to the Most Glorious Ass in North America."

"Who cares about flowers?" Lardo snapped, hands on her hips. "Why did we wake up in our beds? Why don't our phones work? What happened to the rest of the team?"

The room fell silent. Finally, Jack couldn't take the uncertainty anymore, so he said, “Alright, let's just head to Faber and talk to the coaches. There has to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe something

happened to the closest cell tower. Maybe the flowers are from one of Bittle’s boyfriends-”

“Hey!” Bittle squawked.

“-but we won't know anything if we just sit around here.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Shitty chirped, gripping both of Lardo’s shoulders and squeezing until she relaxed.

They filed out of the Haus, into the oddly dark morning. Jack took up the rear, only a _little_ happy when Bittle hung back to walk with him. He resisted the urge to take Bittle’s hand, despite the anxiety in Bittle’s eyes.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jack asked as they walked, keeping his hands shoved firmly in his pockets. Ahead, Ransom was giving Holster shit for not changing out of his bathrobe before going out in public. Behind them, Lardo just shrugged at Shitty, who wore raggedy sweatpants and nothing else.

“Yeah,” Bittle said after a moment. “I mean, I feel okay. But...things just seem off, don't they? I mean, did you see the number of flowers on our door? It's weird.”

Jack nudged Bittle with his elbow. “It's weird how many admirers you have?”

Bittle rolled his eyes, holding back a smile. “ _Stop,_ oh my gosh, let me _live,_ Jack Zimmermann.”

They bickered across campus, though Jack was unnerved by how few students he saw. It _was_ a Saturday morning, but they'd seen only a couple souls at a distance, and one girl who passed them on the bridge without looking up from her notes.

They ran into no one from the team as they walked, and Jack didn't even bother pulling out his phone. They would get to the rink, talk to the coaches or use their landline or _something_.

When they approached, Bittle stopped dead outside Faber, eyes wide and face deathly pale.

There, on the western wall, a memorial had been erected. Bouquets of flowers were piled around the candles and pucks and the dozens of photographs that had been left there. Jack’s blood ran cold when he saw his own face among the frames. The others were there as well and...and no one else. Just the nine of them, the nine who'd woken in their own beds with no memory of the aftermath of the crash.

This was _their_ memorial. They were-

“Dead,” Bittle whispered, shaking violently. Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. “Jack...I think we’re dead.”

“Oh,” Lardo whispered from Jack’s other side. “That...that explains…”

They all stood there in silence for a long, tense moment.

“Is this some weird joke?” Holster asked loudly. “Are we being punk’d?”

“It's not funny,” Chowder said, wrapping his arms around himself. “This isn't funny-”

“I don't think anyone’s laughing, C,” Nursey said softly. “I think this is legit.”

“I can't be dead!” Dex shouted, hands gripping at his hair. “I haven't paid off my student loans!”

“I think that's a moot point, Poindexter,” Lardo said sharply.

“Well...fuck,” Holster said, shoulders deflating like an old balloon. Ransom leaned against him, eyes wide and panicked.

No one else spoke as they stood there, staring. They didn’t move for a long time,

* * *

 

They gathered in the kitchen after they returned to the Haus, everyone clutching at someone else.

“I can't believe we’re dead,” Chowder whispered. “Cait- she must be-”

“Dead,” Nursey repeated. “Just...dead?”

“So you've finally figured it out.”

They all turned, startled to see two girls standing -- no, floating -- in the doorway. They both wore odd clothes, like things Jack remembered from his early childhood. They were both very pretty and wearing quite a bit of makeup and were so  _young_...

“The sorority ghosts,” Holster said, mouth agape.

“You have to be _shitting_ _me,_ ” Ransom hissed. “Ghosts aren't real!”

“Um.” Lardo gestured to everyone in the room. “Rans. Buddy.”

“Go towards the light,” the blonde one said.

“Excuse me?” Bitty asked.

“The light,” the brunette said. “When it comes to you, go towards it. If you don't, you'll be stuck here like us.”

“We’re not sure it'll ever come for us again,” the blonde added sadly, leaning against her friend. “Take the chance when you have it.”

“Where does it lead?” Ransom asked tentatively.

Both girls shrugged. “But it has to be better than living in a frat house for eternity,” the brunette said. “Right?”

No one dared answer, and eventually the girls left them alone in their silence.

 

* * *

 

  
Their parents came to the Haus in a flood. The Birkholtzes and the Oluransis -- who'd never met in person before -- spent hours in the attic, crying and telling stories about their boys. Ms. Dupre (Shitty’s mother had retaken her maiden name after the divorce) came by alone and quietly packed up Shitty’s things, not seeming to notice the weed stash or condom wrappers. She didn't speak to anyone, and left quickly, as if she could feel Shitty’s presence there.

The Bittles were all smiles, forced and polite, until they were shut up in Bitty’s room. Then Suzanne crumpled to the ground, and Coach couldn't do anything but stare at Señor Bun, perched on the beside table. They said nothing to each other as they worked, not even looking up from their hands. 

Bittle cried the entire time his parents were there, and long after they left, face pressed into Jack’s arm.

And then the Zimmermanns arrived. Jack stood in his room and watched as his parents wiped at tears and touched his stupid books like they were _him_.

Jack couldn't bear to see his parents cry. He was right there! Why couldn't they see him? Why couldn't they sense him?

Screaming in frustration, Jack snatched the coffee mug from his desk and chucked it at the wall. It flew across the room and shattered; his mother screamed, and his father nearly fell over in shock.

“That mug…” his mother whispered, grasping at his father’s shirt. “Honey...Jack?”

“I'm here!” Jack shouted, trying to grab her by the shoulders. His hands slipped through her, though, of course they did. She shuddered, lifting a hand to ghost over the places he'd been.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” She asked, voice small, broken.

“Alicia,” Bob murmured. “It was just a cup.”

“Right,” his mother whispered. “Of course.”

They packed Jack’s belongings in silence, though every few seconds Alicia’s eyes would dart to the broken mug on the ground.

Neither of them cleaned the shards before they left, and Jack sat next to them for a long, long time after.

  

* * *

“Chowder tried to talk to Farmer this afternoon,” Bittle said as he joined Jack out on the reading room. “It didn't work, obviously, but he did learn that they're holding a memorial service for us tomorrow.”

“No one else died in the crash, right?” Jack asked, leaning back against the roof shingles. “Just us?”

“Yeah,” Bittle said softly. “Nursey’s been pretty torn up about it. Dex, of all people, is with him right now. Chowder told me he needed to be alone, especially after seeing his parents, but I think he's gone to try and communicate with Caitlin again.”

Jack thought back to the mug shards on his bedroom floor and could relate with Chowder's plight.

“Ransom and Holster are in the attic doing Lord knows what. I think Lardo is grilling those sorority girls for answers, specifics and, well...Shitty goes where she goes.”

“You're good at keeping track of people,” Jack said, wishing he could feel heat coming from Bittle’s body as he sat close. But they grew colder the longer they were ghosts; Bittle hadn't blushed once today, despite Jack’s teases. “You should've been a manager. Or captain.”

“Right,” Bittle scoffed. “Like I'd be a good captain. The captain who couldn't take a check.”

“It's not about skill,” Jack said firmly. “It's about heart. You try your damndest at every practice, every game. You've come so far. You love this team and these guys. I'd vote for you.”

Bittle looked up at him sadly. “Thanks, Jack. Guess it doesn't really matter, though. Never gonna happen anyway.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Maybe it was something about this weird, limbo world they were in, or maybe it was because he'd never really looked until now, but the stars were so beautiful here, far more visible than when in the city proper.

“I’ll never play in the NHL,” Jack eventually said, voice soft. “After everything…I guess I’ve been living on borrowed time, anyway…I guess I was never meant to be anything more than this.”

“More than what?” Bitty asked, a bit petulantly. “More than a successful NCAA captain? More than a big, strong, handsome son who made his parents proud? Who excelled at the sport his father loved?”

“Bittle,” Jack said softly. “Your parents were proud of you.”

“No they weren’t,” Bitty murmured. “They loved me, but they weren’t proud of me.”

“Bittle-”

“Jack,” Bittle said sharply. “You were so much in life. You worked so hard, you accomplished so much. Be proud of yourself. Just for a moment.”

“I am,” Jack mumbled. “And you should be proud of yourself, too,” he added petulantly.

They fell into silence again. The stars seemed brighter, bigger, closer.

“I’ll never have to come out to them,” Bitty said eventually, voice trembling and watery. Jack didn't have to ask whom he meant. “Even if they find my vlog, at least I never had a boyfriend to disappoint them with.”

“Bittle,” Jack started, but he didn't know what else to say.

“I’ll never kiss anyone,” Bitty said, staring down at his lap, his voice cracked and small. “God, I died a closeted virgin. How sad it that?”

“It's not,” Jack murmured. They'd drawn closer to each other, faces only inches apart.

“Will you...will you kiss me?” Bitty asked, eyes rimmed red and puffy. “Please, I don’t want to leave without ever being kissed.”

And, well, Jack couldn't say no to that.

He leaned over slowly, watching as Bittle’s eyes grew wide, then fluttered closed. They’d never really been this close before, close enough that Jack could count the faint freckles on Bittle’s nose. He pressed their lips together chastely, for a brief moment, and pulled back as something clicked in his mind.

They surged together again like waves on a stormy sea, crashing until they mingled together like salt and foam. Bittle wrapped himself around Jack, and Jack could feel the ways in which they were no longer living: no warmth under Bittle’s skin, no heartbeat fluttering against his chest. But Jack savored this moment, this last moment together, and pretended he could smell the vanilla and cinnamon on Bittle’s clothes, could taste the sugared fruit on his tongue. They were nothing but winter air and memories, but Jack held on tight and forced regret from his mind.

“You fool,” Bittle whispered as Jack kissed down the column of his throat. “We could’ve- could’ve had _time_.”

“I know,” Jack murmured, bringing a hand to Bittle’s face. “But we have now. This.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Bittle said sadly. Jack kissed him again tenderly.

“Thank you,” was all he could think to say in response. Bittle nodded, half-smiling, and Jack hoped he understood.

The stars above grew brighter and brighter until the dawn came. He and Bittle were there to greet the sunrise Jack knew would be their last.

 

* * *

They stood towards the front of the crowd at Faber for the memorial service. For once, the larger guys didn't have to worry about blocking someone’s view.

The rest of the team sat in the few rows of chairs before the standing crowd. Ollie wore a neck brace and Wicks had a cast on his arm. A few of the other guys sported obvious injuries, and the few missing ones Jack suspected were still in the hospital.

Next to the team sat the families and a few friends. Farmer, March, and April sat in a huddle, the older two stroking Farmer’s hair as she held back tears. Only Coach Hall stood at the podium, and Jack wondered vaguely where Murray could be. Had he been injured? Was he with the injured boys? Did he blame himself for the freak accident?

Coach Hall cleared his throat and said a few words, wavering and thick. He quickly departed the podium and, to everyone's surprise, John Johnson stepped up to take his place. After a moment, he began to speak.

"I didn't see this coming," Johnson said softly, shaking his head. "None of us could have predicted that these nine lives would be cut down so early, before any of them could fulfill their character arcs-"

His voice broke, and Jack stared in horror as John Johnson let out a small sob. He'd gotten along with Johnson, and John has really taken a shine to Bittle last year, but no one had been particularly close to him. Who knew he'd cared that much about any of them?

And that's when Jack knew it was all real. He was dead. He would never grow old. He would never play hockey again.

He would never wake up to Bittle's smile.

"They were too young," Johnson continued, wiping at his eyes. "I know this is a fan-derived universe-" Johnson paused, looking around at the crowd. "In another world, they will all grow older. They'll find themselves, graduate, start careers. They'll fall in love." Johnson looked straight at Jack, just for a second, then looked away. "But in this world, we can only hope they'll find some peace and strive to keep their memories alive.

"And if they're here, if they're still with us, I just want to say...I'm sorry." Johnson looked straight at them, gaze unwavering and sure. "I'm so, so sorry."

Someone in the audience wailed. Given the tears in Bittle's eyes, Jack wagered it was his mother. He wrapped an arm around Bittle's shoulder and kissed his head.

"Be at peace," Johnson said with finality, voice thick with tears. "Thank you for the stories you've left us, the memories."

As he finished speaking, a light shone through the windows of Faber, growing brighter and brighter and brighter-

“That’s it,” Ransom said softly, gripping Holster’s hand. “That’s the light.”

“It’s now or never,” Nursey said, his voice too calm to be real. “I think we have to follow it.”

“Where?” Dex asked, sounding small and young. Jack realized with a jolt that the frogs were all just 18, barely adults.

“Beyond,” Holster said with a shrug. “Eternity. Nothingness. Whatever you believe in, I guess, or...maybe nothing like what any of us believe.”

“So we just...go?” Chowder asked, face crumpled in anguish. Bitty reached out and took his hand.

“We’ll do this the way we  do anything else,” Lardo said sharply, taking Chowder’s other hand. “As a _team_.”

That sparked something in them all, linking hands until they stood in a long chain. Jack took a deep, shaky breath, holding Ransom’s hand on one side, Bitty’s on the other.

Noticing the anxiety, the fear on Bitty’s face, Jack nudged his arm and gave him a small smile. “Don’t be afraid, Bits,” he said softly. “I got your back.”

Bittle chuckled, soft and broken, and stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Jack’s lips. “I wish we could’ve had more time,” he whispered hoarsely. “I wish- I wish we-”

“I know,” Jack said, his heart breaking a little. “But we have now. We have this moment.”

“I wish I was alone, here,” Bitty said, shaking as the light in front of them grew brighter. “I wish I was the only one facing this, the only one who died. But I am so, so glad to have you all by my side.”

“Here, at the end of all things?” Holster asked, a goofy grin on his face.

“Shut up,” Ransom murmured, but he was smiling fondly. “You’re not allowed to quote movies when we’re about to cross over into God-knows-where.”

“We might as well get it over with,” Lardo said, though Jack could see her shaking as hard as any of them, face drawn and determined. “Whatever happens, just know I love you idiots a whole lot. A stupid amount.”

Shitty kissed her softly. Next to him, Nursey pressed his forehead to Dex’s, whispering something Jack couldn’t hear. Bitty leaned against Chowder’s arm, tucking his face against the bright teal of his Sharks sweatshirt for a moment to hide his tears. Chowder cried freely, his eyes not on the light but on Farmer, who sat with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Alright, team,” Jack said, squeezing Bitty’s hand tightly. “Let’s do this.”

Shitty laughed softly. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

Following Jack, the rest of them walked forward, towards the light. Jack turned, just moments before, and met Bitty’s gaze, piercing and sad and full of love, before everything turned white.

**Author's Note:**

> Come reblog this work and view others from this fest [HERE](https://omgcpheartbreakfest.tumblr.com/) on the omgcpheartbreakfest tumblr page!


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